


Faolkie

by Sternenstaub



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Creature Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Holding Hands, Hugs, Hypothermia, M/M, No witchers, Pre-Relationship, different first meeting, non-human geralt, snowstorm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:41:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28434078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sternenstaub/pseuds/Sternenstaub
Summary: Jaskier gets lost in a snowstorm and is saved by a white wolf. Then he wakes up in a cave and a man is taking care of him. What do these two have in common and how can he thank the man for saving his life?
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 28
Kudos: 203
Collections: The Witcher Flash Fic Challenge Winter 2020





	Faolkie

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Winter flashfic challenge.  
> Please read end notes for additional warnings I didn't put in the tags so I wouldn't spoiler the twist.

Cold wind was biting into Jaskier's skin, his eyes stung and he could feel the tears that trickled down in a steady stream freeze on his cheeks. The snow piled up around him, higher and higher until he could barely move his legs anymore and Jaskier wondered, not for the first time this afternoon, if this was how he'd die. Surrounded by snow and nothingness, barely able to see where he was going, entirely lost to the world. His teeth shattered and he pulled his coat closer, hiding his hands in his pockets, hoping his lute was safe in her case on his back.

All he had wanted was a faster way to the next town, this mountain was supposed to be a shortcut and when he had started walking the sky had looked sunny and the world inviting. The snow glittered and the forest had looked like a fairy tale come to life. An hour later Jaskier had realized he was not in the kind of fairy tale that gave you riches and never ending love but in the kind that ended in suffering and death. The snowstorm had taken him entirely by surprise, never before had he seen the sky turn dark so fast. 

A new gust of wind gripped him like a vice and Jaskier stumbled face first into the snow. He was cold, too cold, his fingers turned from hurting to numb and he had stopped feeling his toes over an hour ago. When he managed to struggle back to his feet again he looked around and a sudden clarity grabbed him. He would die on this mountain, no matter what he did, if he walked or sat down, and sitting down sounded really nice right about now, he would die.  
The path was invisible and Jaskier wasn't even sure if and when he had left it, the mountains and trees all looked the same in the snow, not that he could see farther than a few meters right now. There just was no landmark he could concentrate on, no way to follow, nothing that would promise him a release from this hellhole of wet and cold and biting wind that cut at his cheeks. Sure, he could struggle, could walk until he literally passed out but it'd be futile, he'd rather meet death sitting.

With that thought Jaskier plopped back down, right into the snow, his breath heavy and labored as it was barely managed to leave his chest, losing the fight against the biting wind. A part of him had always imagined his death to be more glorious, killed by a jealous bard at the annual bardic competition or caught in a lovers spat with a princess. A more reasonable part of him, as small as that part was, had come to expect he'd die while climbing down the trellis after sleeping with a married partner, get mauled by a monster or just catch an illness on his travels. But in any scenario he had imagined, he had always expected to die with a song on his lips and to the sweet taste of wine and fun. Not like this, frozen, alone, unable to utter a sound.

Jaskier felt his eyes close, lashes heavy from snow that didn't melt anymore, when he saw something moving between the trees closest to him. A shadow he could barely see vanished before he could blink. His eyes closed for a moment again and he was startled to feel something wet and insistent tap his face. Deep golden eyes stared at him and a dark black spot tapped his cheek again. When Jaskier groaned and opened his eyes fully, a long pink tongue lolled out of the creature. His foggy brain supplied him with the term wolf right before the same pink tongue licked over his face. 

The fact that he'd end up as a wolf meal startled him just as much as the sudden appearance of the wolf itself, who was just as white as the snow and almost invisible if not for his striking golden eyes that seemed to see much more than Jaskier could ever hope to. Should they be that far up? Were wolves supposed to be that big? 

The wolf nipped at his clothes but instead of the painful bite and snarls he expected, the creature seemed to try and move him, pushing its snout under his armpit, trying to hoist him up. Jaskier didn't struggle, couldn't struggle, and decided if he was already so far gone he hallucinated a white wolf was saving him, he might as well play along.

The wolf pushed and pulled and Jaskier struggled to his feet as good as he could before falling face down again. But instead of the snow his face met soft fur that smelled like wet dog. Under the first layer of wetness, it was surprisingly warm and he buried his hands in it as deep as he could. The wolf huffed but didn't turn around to bite him. With slow steps and the wolf carrying most of his weight, Jaskier moved again. 

His addled brain wondered if he was dying and dreaming of one of the stories his nanny had told him. This was clearly no normal wolf, for one he was bigger than any wolf Jaskier had ever seen before and he also seemed much smarter and acted like no wild animal ever would. Saving him was a thing even most people wouldn't attempt in this storm. Or in general.

Jaskier closed his eyes, face buried into warm fur and remembered what his nanny had told him about the faolkie, wolf folk that lived in the mountains, standing between the weaker creatures and the monsters preying on them. Once they'd resided next to humans and elves but soon they were hunted and had to hide. For a faolkie was half wolf and half human. Stronger and faster than any person could ever be without their pelt and once they slipped into the fur they were born with, they turned into the biggest wolves you had ever seen. Their pelts were hunted, people disregarding the ever growing monster threat in favor of greed and money, at first for their unique softness and warmth but soon people realized that a faolkie without their pelt had to obey the person wearing the very same. They had no choice but to follow them. Kings and nobles alike soon sent out hunters to collect as many faolkie as they could find, binding them to their kingdom and sending them into bloody wars against each other. A war they had to fight, bound to their pelt and the owner wielding it, unable to take it back if it was not freely and consciously given until almost none of them were left anymore.  
Jaskier, at that time still named Julian and at the age of 6, had cried when his nanny told him that story. She'd hushed him and explained that faolkie were nothing more than beasts that looked human, they were just dogs used for fighting so good honest people wouldn't get hurt. She also explained that the faolkie had died out decades ago and would never be able to hurt him. Julian had glared at her and demanded a new nanny the same evening. 

Jaskier wondered, with his face buried into the fur of an unnaturally big and smart wolf, if they had really died out or just learned to avoid the humans who had wronged them so much. The creature under him trotted onwards, leading him deeper into the storm and before the cold claimed his consciousness once again, Jaskier's last thought was that maybe it was fair for him to get eaten by a magical being that his grandparents would have mistreated and enslaved without a second thought. Maybe it was the way of destiny to right a wrong committed before his birth. 

\----

Jaskier opened his eyes and saw rough stone, he shivered and pulled the blanket up to his chin, watching the firelight paint shadows on the stone above him. His fingers hurt and his feet felt like that time as a kid when he'd accidentally jumped into an anthill. He wiggled his toes and fingers and was happy to feel the warmth of a fire seep into them when his brain stopped with a screech.  
A blanket?  
Fire?  
He tried to sit up but only managed to raise his head before the strain was too much for his body, his muscles felt like a cart had run over him several times. 

He could see a small campfire and noticed he was lying in a cave on a bedroll, covered by a blanket that did not look like his. It was old and patched in many places but wonderfully warm. Jaskier worried at the fabric with his fingers, enjoying the soft sensation against his hurting skin when his brain told him he had forgotten a detail again. 

A man!  
A man had been sitting next to the fire. Jaskier had only seen broad shoulders and a back for a moment but it had clearly been a man. He groaned and wondered what had happened. Had he dreamed meeting the wolf, had he hallucinated so much that he had seen a wolf where a man had stood and saved him? Because there was not an ounce of doubt that whoever sat there at the campfire had saved Jaskier's life.

The bard groaned and tried to sit up once more when the figure in front of the fire turned around. It was indeed a man, a beautiful man with white hair and eyes that almost looked golden in the firelight. He looked rough and unshaven, clad in pelts and fur and as much as Jaskier's fashion sense complained at the odd assortment of pelts hanging onto his savior, the bigger part of him wished he'd been that smart before he had walked out into a mountain during a snowstorm.

"How are you feeling?" a deep voice rumbled, the gravelly effect amplified by the rough cavewalls until Jaskier could have sworn the voice had an underlying growl. The man approached him slowly, holding up his hands when Jaskier flinched. But he had not flinched because of the sudden closeness or the voice, but rather because moving and sitting up hurt every part of his body up to his very skin. Jaskier felt like even the tips of his hair had frostbite. He huddled closer into the blanket and tried to smile at the man who had stopped moving at Jaskier's reaction.

"I am alive." he coughed, the wind and snow had almost taken his voice and if that didn't scare him more than anything else he'd experienced today, he didn't know what else would. So Jaskier coughed again for good measure and thanked every deity he'd never truly believed in that he was alive. Once his chest felt like it could breathe and his throat stopped constricting, he tried to smile again but was aware this one was weaker and looked probably just as pitiful as he felt.

The man approached him again and made sure with deft hands that Jaskier had no injuries. Then he gave him tea and some bread until the bard felt strong enough to sit up on his own. Outside the cave the snowstorm still ravaged, Jaskier shuddered when he watched the wind and snow build and take down small avalanches around trees, reminding himself that he had almost been buried like that. 

The man introduces himself as Geralt and Jaskier assumed he was a hunter, what with the pelts and weapons he was carrying around. Geralt was not very verbose but he made sure Jaskier sat close to the fire and once he started to feel his fingers again listened to Jaskier tuning and strumming his lute, making sure nothing had gotten damaged in the cold.

The storm ravaged for several hours and soon Jaskier's eyes drooped again. His body was complaining loudly about the abuse he had gone through and Jaskier wasn't sure he'd ever feel warm again. Geralt saw and nudged him towards the bedroll but Jaskier was still conscious enough to remember there was no second place to sleep and he would not be the reason his savior caught pneumonia. So he argued, half asleep and with a slurred voice until Geralt agreed they could just share the bedroll. 

\---

Jaskier woke up with his face pressed into a firm chest and his arm hugging a sturdy frame next to him. Geralt was lying next to him like a perfect marble statue, his cheeks and chin could cut through steel and his nose looked aristocratic, if slightly broken, small scars covered his face and neck. Jaskier wondered what kind of life this hunter must have led to have accumulated so many scars.  
The bard yawned and suddenly golden eyes watched him, Jaskier felt a shudder run down his spine but this time he didn't feel cold, rather the opposite. This man, as rough and scarred as he was, had more sex appeal than the entire last town he'd visited, Jaskier wanted to drown in those golden eyes. 

Before he could embarrass himself by confessing his undying love to a stranger who had just saved him from certain death like some damsel in distress in a fairytale, Jaskier scooted a few inches back and yelped when his back hit the cold stone floor. Even through his several layers of clothes the difference was startling.  
Geralt huffed a small laugh and stretched his arms over his head before he got up. Jaskier tried his hardest not to stare too much at the exposed part of his stomach when his savior moved.

The weather had turned and what had been a death trap just hours ago looked like a perfectly beautiful landscape once again. Geralt agreed to travel with Jaskier to the next town, apparently they had the same goal. They packed the few belongings lying in the cave and Jaskier could have sworn he saw a white pelt between Geralt's hunting spoils but the hunter snatched them away before Jaskier could get a closer look and grumbled something about the pelts being fresh and needing special attention. 

The trip to town took them barely a few hours during which Jaskier talked and sang, happy to be alive and to have his voice back. Geralt was quiet but seemed to smile at some of the slower songs.

Once they'd reached their destination, the hunter said his goodbyes and Jaskier realized with a pang in his chest that he'd never truly thanked Geralt and would likely never see him again.

\---

The next morning Jaskier tried to charm the local baker into giving him a few sweet buns for free, he hadn't been able to perform the night before, his hands still trembled from the cold even long after he had been able to warm up again and his head felt too light and filled with cotton. Having to brave the coldness again had almost been more than he could stand but the rumors of a patron looking for a bard in this town had sadly been false and Jaskier had to find a new place to stay yet again. A bard without a winter position truly wasn't to be envied.

Wallowing in self pity, he almost didn't notice a man running away, a pile of pelts in his arms, before the man collided with him.  
"Thief!" a voice shouted after the man who had stumbled into Jaskier and fallen, spilling the pelts on the muddy road and Jaskier. The man looked behind him and apparently decided a few pelts were not worth being caught for and scrambled away, leaving Jaskier behind, covered in pelts.  
The bard picked them up but his hand stilled when he touched a white one, it looked and felt almost like the very one he had hallucinated about and without a further thought Jaskier put it around his shoulders. For the first time that day he felt warm and a small smile graced his lips.

The thief´s pursuer had caught up and stopped in front of Jaskier, it was Geralt, breathing hard and looking panicked. Jaskier wondered if Geralt was as much dependent on his next income as he was and would have had to sleep for another night in the forest without the coin his pelts would bring him on the market.  
The hunter looked at Jaskier with huge eyes, who offered the pile of pelts back with a grin. "Happy I can pay you back." Jaskier said and winked, overjoyed to have met the white haired hunter again, his heart did a little flip when those golden eyes met his when Geralt took the pelts out of his hands.  
"You have no idea what these mean to me…" Geralt started but Jaskier interrupted him, "Don't mention it, I'm happy I was in the way for that thief." The bard laughed and didn't notice Geralt stopped talking right away with wide eyes.

"Did you have breakfast yet? I feel like being literally just a hindrance for a thief by chance is no adequate payment for saving my life?" Jaskier asked the hunter who looked at him with a mix of curiosity and panic. Surely he was still angry and shocked someone had tried to steal from him, Jaskier thought and gestured towards the bakery he had just tried to get breakfast from.  
"Im afraid I'm low on coin right now but surely," with that he turned around to the baker who had seen his heroic deed of stopping a thief, "surely, this noble baker will find it in their heart to reward my heroic deed with some sweet buns for my friend who was so unjustly treated by this town and for my humble self?" The baker scoffed but a smile played on their lips and Jaskier was indeed handed some buns, a bit old and hard but still smelling like sugar and honey. He offered one to Geralt who took it without a word.

The hunter mustered him again and Jaskier wondered if he had some sugar sticking to his face but didn't exactly mind the scrutiny, it gave him the leeway to stare back just as much, to get lost into those golden eyes and marvel at the strong jawline and broad shoulders of the man next to him. Geralt truly was the perfect specimen of their gender and Jaskier couldn't help but wonder if the hunter would be interested in sharing more than breakfast.

He mentally shook his head and pulled his brain out of the gutter again, he barely knew the man, really, just because Geralt saved him didn't mean he was a decent guy or a nice lay or anything else. For all Jaskier knew Geralt could be brutal and evil, no, that thought didn't even stick long enough in his mind to make an imprint, the hunter in front of him had kind eyes and no evil man saved a stranger in a snowstorm.

"Where are you heading next?" Jaskier asked the hunter who wolfed down the sweet bun.  
"Daevon." Geralt grunted between two bites, he must not have been eating well, Jaskier thought with a pang in his chest.  
"Me too! What a great coincidence! Let's travel together!" Jaskier exclaimed happily and the hunter nodded, watching him with an expression Jaskier couldn't read.  
"How long will you need to see your pelts? When shall we meet up?"  
Geralt seemed to calculate for a moment and told him to meet again in front of the baker at twelve.  
"Don't be late." Jaskier teased, well aware time was easily lost while haggling with merchants. Geralt just nodded again, the same unreadable expression on his face.

Jaskier packed his meager belongings at the inn and only noticed he was still wearing the white pelt around his shoulders when he pulled his lute strap over his head. For a moment he wondered if he should give it back to Geralt, it was a beautiful pelt and the hunter would fetch a high price for it but then he shrugged, surely Geralt had seen him wear it when they'd talked and hadn't mentioned it, maybe it was a thank you gift for saving his other pelts or had never belonged to Geralt but another person the thief had stolen from in the first place.

With one last touch to the white fur the bard pulled his old coat over the pelt, hoping it would help him stave off the cold, and walked towards the bakery. It was just short of twelve when he saw Geralt approach, a hurried look to his face. How cute, he didn't want to let him wait, Jaskier thought and smiled brightly at the hunter.  
"Gotten everything sold? Need to buy anything else before we can start?" The hunter shook his head, pointing to a bag over his shoulder.  
"Alright! Here we go!" Jaskier said and walked onwards with a spring to his step, closely followed by a silent hunter.

They walked for a few minutes in silence before Jaskier started to chatter, he talked about the town they'd visited and the songs he'd write about the mountains and the snow, "I'll make you a hero, Geralt! Everyone will know your name and that you valiantly saved a poor frozen bard from certain death!"  
The hunter stopped dead at that, "Don't mention me, please." Geralt suddenly pleaded with an intensity Jaskier hadn't expected. This was not a man who was embarrassed, no, this was the expression of a man fearing for his life.  
"Is someone after you?" Jaskier asked, watching the hunter closely. Geralt twitched slightly but nodded. "I won't breathe a word then." Jaskier gently touched Geralt's arm, trying to make sure the hunter saw his sincerity. Geralt seemed to calm down a bit at that but still looked pained. Jaskier petted his arms once again with a smile.

The rest of the walk was spent with Jaskier composing a tune that fit snow and mountains, he'd work on the words later, when he knew how he'd replace Geralt with something heroic and noble that sounded like a vague metaphor only. The hunter seemed to be grumpier with every step they made but Jaskier had absolutely no clue why. He stopped playing after a bit, thinking the endless repetition grated on his new friend's nerves but it didn't seem to help. Geralt did not talk nor acknowledge Jaskier unless he was asked directly about something so the bard decided it was best to stay quiet and wait until the hunter would talk. His heart fell when he thought how fast he'd put his new companion off, he really had a talent for making people dislike him.

Daevon was a small town, buried under snow like everything this far north. Jaskier truly had underestimated just how much snow would fall close to the blue mountains and was happy to know they were slowly traveling south before the worst of winter would hit. If this snowstorm was what Kaedwen had to offer just days after autumn had left he shuddered to think what the middle of winter would bring. It was absolutely incomprehensible to him how anyone could live here willingly.

The people of Daevon seemed happy enough in this weather though, wearing warm coats and pelts, haggling at the marketplace as if their boots weren't covered by mud and snow, walking through the streets as if it was the height of spring and not cold enough to lose the feeling in your fingertips.  
The inn only had one room to offer and Jaskier insisted they share when Geralt said he'd sleep in the stables. The hunter followed him without another word, even grumpier than before.

The room was clean and warm, two small beds standing on each wall. Jaskier plopped down on one bed and started tuning his lute, hoping he'd find more willing patrons at this inn than at the last one. Geralt watched him with a sour expression, taking out his weapons to sharpen them.  
"Do you live close? Or are you going to hunt in the forest around here?" Jaskier asked but only got a grunt in return. The latest one of many he had gotten instead of a proper answer. Slowly he was starting to become angry, if Geralt didn't want to share a room or spend more time with him, he should just say so and not make both their lives miserable.

"Really, whatever did I do? Out with it! Am I that annoying?" Jaskier exploded. Geralt watched him with wide eyes but to Jaskier's surprise his shoulders seemed to relax.  
"Can you give me back my pelt?" was the first question he asked and Jaskier watched him with an open mouth. "You've been sulking and making me think I'm annoying all day just because you wanted one tiny pelt back? Whyever didn't you say so right away? What's so special about it?" He was so enraged, gesticulating with his hands, he didn't pull the pelt off his shoulders.  
Geralt grit his teeth, struggling to speak with a thunderous expression, "It's not just any pelt, it's my pelt, as in, my own skin. And it's not tiny." Geralt said, flinching as if the answer pained him. He stopped talking for a moment, clearly struggling until he continued, "It's a faolkie pelt, my faolkie pelt." he finally spat out, looking at Jaskier with huge horrified eyes.

Jaskier felt cold all over, he could feel the bile rise in his stomach and his head felt whoozy, "You mean...I've been...all day I've been…" He watched Geralt with horror in his eyes and pulled the pelt off as if it burned him. "Please, please take it back, it's yours, oh my, Melitele, I am so sorry, I didn't...oh by all the gods, Geralt…" Jaskier stammered, almost throwing the pelt back to his owner who took it quickly, watching Jaskier with a mix of suspicion, wonder and curiosity. 

The hunter, no, the faolkie, wrapped the pelt around his own shoulders and looked more relaxed than before. His eyes still watched Jaskier who had bitten his own tongue, realizing no apology in this world would be sufficient for accidentally almost enslaving a man he had hoped to befriend.

"You...you gave it back, just like that." Geralt caressed the pelt as if he had gained a limb back he had thought lost forever.  
"Of course! Geralt, please believe me when I say I had no idea! Why did you not?..." Jaskier trailed off, Don't mention it. oh, oh no, it was all his fault, he'd messed up tremendously. 

Geralt watched him with something unreadable in his eyes, almost a kind of wonder hiding behind years of doubt but Jaskier didn't trust his own instincts all that much in that moment so it might as well have been disgust in Geralt's expression. Meanwhile Jaskier's brain repeated every single thing he'd said that day, every word and sentence that could have sounded like an order and was horrified to notice he'd been abusing his powers unknowingly all day.

Geralt kept one hand securely on his pelt, keeping some steps apart from Jaskier but it didn't look like he wanted to leave. Jaskier realized that it was cold and snowing and there were no other rooms at the inn. He groaned and got up, "Really, Geralt, I can't apologize enough. You'll never see me again, I'll pack my things and look for another place to sleep, the rent is already covered as long as I play for a bit downstairs later this evening."

Jaskier turned around to leave when a deep voice stopped him in his tracks, "Wait." Geralt watched him for a moment, golden eyes looking right into Jaskier's soul. "You could have kept it, you obviously know what the pelt is, what it does when you wear it. Why did you not keep it?" He seemed genuinely puzzled and that broke Jaskier's heart more than anything else. Had Geralt expected to be enslaved? For Jaskier to be happy about the opportunity to own another sentient creature? Was that what had happened to him before and why he had so many scars?  
"Only a monster would willingly enslave another person." Jaskier whispered, not trusting his voice. He felt like crying now that the shock was slowly wearing off.

When Jaskier turned around to leave again Geralt didn't stop him. After a short and slightly lifeless performance downstairs Jaskier left the inn, looking for a stable to sleep in and walked out of Daevon as soon as the first rays of sun hit it.  
He walked south and spent the rest of the winter hopping from town to town and inn to inn, he was lucky not to hit another snowstorm and to find an tavern led by a widow who didn't mind having him around too much for a few weeks. At night he often thought back to Geralt and the white wolf, to what he had almost done and if Geralt was safe. Jaskier hadn't breathed a word about his encounter with a creature long thought extinct, no matter how well those songs would sell.

The snow started to melt and the first flowers bloomed when Jaskier started to wander again, his innkeeper and the whole town were plenty fed up with his music and he needed new songs and coin. He strummed his lute on the way, enjoying the first warm rays of the sun on his face when something jumped out of a bush next to him. Jaskier stumbled and almost dropped his lute but managed to catch it just in time before looking at his attacker. Just that it wasn't a bandit or bear, no, in front of him stood a huge white wolf, tongue lolling out of his maw as if it was laughing at him. Golden eyes looked up at him and the wolf huffed once when Jaskier stood there frozen in shock. 

"Geralt?"

The wolf huffed again and rolled his eyes. Jaskier was relatively sure wolves should not be able to roll their eyes and laughed in shock.  
"Come to eat me after all?" Jaskier asked and Geralt nudged his arm playfully with a wet nose before jumping a few feet away. After a few more nudges the bard realized Geralt wanted him to follow.

Jaskier gave him a bright smile and turned the way Geralt indicated, not sure if the wolf had been looking for him or stumbled upon him by chance but feeling lighter now that he knew the faolkie didn't think badly of him for what had happened and hoped they could talk.  
The wolf started to trot next to him once he saw Jaskier followed willingly, sniffing at the flowers and hunting birds but always circling back to the shallow path he led Jaskier on. 

They walked for maybe an hour until they reached a clearing, when the sun set Geralt indicated for Jaskier to sit down and the bard made camp, at this point greatly intrigued, wondering what the hunter could want from him. Geralt ran into the woods after a short bark, leaving Jaskier even more puzzled, but came back soon after, carrying a rabbit in his maw.  
While Jaskier skinned it, not a task he enjoyed but one he'd still learned despite his disgust, the wolf walked behind a tree and after a moment Geralt the man walked back into the light of the campfire. Jaskier blushed, those eyes and the intense aura still made his heart beat faster. Geralt wore his pelt securely around his shoulders, but sat down close to the bard. 

For a moment neither man said anything. Jaskier played on his lute and watched Geralt with a small smile. The hunter, for that was what he was after all, just not in the way Jaskier had assumed at first, stared at the fire and the roasting rabbit as if it held a hidden meaning.  
After a moment Geralt took a deep breath, "Jaskier..."  
The bard stopped playing and looked up at him, waiting for Geralt to continue.

"Did you tell anyone about what happened? About me?" Geralt looked small in that moment. His eyes shifted back and forth from Jaskier's face, his shoulders were hunched and he worried at a piece of wood in his hand.  
Jaskier wanted to scoot closer and hug him, to reassure him, but he didn't think the faolkie would appreciate him in close contact to his pelt without consent again.

"Geralt, no. I swear I didn't breathe a word." Jaskier felt his heart beat faster, suddenly worried someone was after them, had seen or heard about Jaskier and Geralt together, maybe seen the pelt. What if he had accidentally said something while drunk or otherwise inebriated? He didn't remember it but that wouldn't make it any better, he would have still hurt a man he had wronged badly already once again.

Golden eyes watched him intently for a moment until Geralt relaxed. "I believe you." Jaskier felt his shoulders sag down at that as well, he hadn't even noticed how tense he had become under Geralt's scrutiny. "If it wasn't you, I must have stayed too long in the blue mountains. Someone must have seen me shift." The hunter mused, it didn't seem like he expected an answer from Jaskier so for the maybe first time in his life the bard decided not to jump into a barrage of questions.

Geralt stared at the campfire for a few more minutes, obviously struggling with some decision when Jaskier picked up his lute again, working on the melody about the mountains and snow that definitely did not mention a wolf or any kind of fluffy animal at all, he took great care of that. Maybe it'd help Geralt or distract him from his worries. Jaskier didn't like to see the man he wanted to call a friend so distressed.

Geralt turned around when he heard the tune, head clocked slightly. "Like it? It's based on our first encounter." Jaskier smiled at him, "I made sure nothing leads back towards your cave or you, I promise. I thought you might want to hear it first regardless."

Golden eyes stared at him for a moment, meeting Jaskier's blue eyes until the bard blushed brightly, "It's not finished, this is just a rough draft, you just looked sad and I thought you might like it." he stammered, unnerved from Geralt's intensity.  
"Thank you." The hunter said with a small but genuine smile that made Jaskier's heart beat faster once again.

"If you can't stay in Kaedwen right now, I have a small cottage at the coast in Kerack. We'd have to travel for a few weeks but I'm sure nobody has even talked about a faolkie in a decade there. You'd be safe for a long time." Jaskier bit his bottom lip before he could add, "and I could stay with you there, if you'll let me." He might be gone on Geralt but he was not an idiot nor a creep. He wouldn't offer a safe place and make it look dependent on romantic feelings in the next sentence.

The hunter looked surprised and considered his offer for a moment. Jaskier thought he'd probably have to get used to long moments of silent deliberation with Geralt around, the man didn't seem like he made decisions easily or on impulse.  
"I won't impose too long but it sounds as good as any other option." Geralt nodded, showing him that tiny smile once again. His golden eyes seemed brighter and more open when they met Jaskier's this time. 

They started their track towards Kerack the next morning. As long as they were far aways from human settlements Geralt preferred to run in his wolf form but he made sure not to lose Jaskier on the path, in the evening and close to towns a silent and broody man followed Jaskier, glowering at anyone who tried to cheat the bard out of money. It was utterly adorable and Jaskier's heart skipped a beat every time Geralt protected him.

Many nights they spend outside, making camp and watching the stars. One such night Jaskier fell asleep while tuning his lute just to wake up with his cheek lying on something soft and warm. He opened his eyes and saw he had fallen asleep on Geralt's shoulder, face right on top of the precious white fur and Geralt didn't seem to mind one bit. Warmth bloomed in his chest and he dared to wrap an arm around Geralt's waist. Should the hunter object, Jaskier could always claim he'd moved in his sleep, but instead Geralt seemed to press into the contact. Jaskier made a happy little sound at that.

He scooted closer, no longer pretending to be asleep and hugged Geralt properly. The faolkie seemed to melt into the contact, slightly nuzzling Jaskier's neck. They remained like that for a long time, just enjoying each other's warmth and the closeness. Enjoying the knowledge nothing was expected of them in that moment.

They fell asleep huddled together. The next morning Geralt stayed a man when they started on their path again, walking closer together than before, shoulders almost touching at times. After some internal deliberation, Jaskier offered the hunter his hand, they both seemed to crave physical affection just as much as emotional one. Geralt took it with a shy smile and they walked connected like that for a long time. 

Jaskier had never looked more forward to visiting his cottage at the coast.

**Author's Note:**

> TW for slight mind control and loss of autonomy, it's accidental and cleared quickly.  
> A more detailed warning that will give away the full plot is there  
> |  
> V
> 
> SPOILER! 
> 
> A Faolkie is a version of a Selkie. A wolfperson that can take off their pelt and turn human. They have to obey every direct order of whoever took their pelt from them. Jaskier takes Geralt's pelt accidentally and gives him a few orders he can't refuse, none of them hurt Geralt but he can't decide freely for some parts of the fic.  
> The relationship does not start during that time.


End file.
